 | The Poetical Works of Leigh Hunt |  |
lvi
ODE FOR THE SPRING OF 1814.
The vision then is past,
That held the eyes of nations,
Swept in his own careering blast,
That shook the earth's foundations!
No more throughout the air
Settles the burning glare,
That far and wide, metallic twilight, shone;
No more the bolts, from south to north,
Leap in their fiery passion forth.
We look'd and saw the Wonder on his throne;
We raised our eyes again, and lo, his place was gone!
That held the eyes of nations,
Swept in his own careering blast,
That shook the earth's foundations!
No more throughout the air
Settles the burning glare,
That far and wide, metallic twilight, shone;
No more the bolts, from south to north,
Leap in their fiery passion forth.
We look'd and saw the Wonder on his throne;
We raised our eyes again, and lo, his place was gone!
Nor did the Shape give way
To mightier spirits like him,
Nor did upon that final day
Elder Corruption strike him.
The long-taught world no more
Those idle charms explore,
Nor call on evil to restore from ill;
But heav'n-ward things, that have their birth
And shed their early tears on earth,
Experience, Truth, and Conquest of the will,
These took the Troubler's place, and bade the Plague be still.
To mightier spirits like him,
lvii
Elder Corruption strike him.
The long-taught world no more
Those idle charms explore,
Nor call on evil to restore from ill;
But heav'n-ward things, that have their birth
And shed their early tears on earth,
Experience, Truth, and Conquest of the will,
These took the Troubler's place, and bade the Plague be still.
Never did sweeter sound
From discord drop resolving,
Than struck the balanced world around
Once more set smooth revolving;
And princely visions rare,
Went stepping through the air,
With frank eyes listening to the glassy spheres;
The Eagles of the north were seen
Sailing the sunny doves between;
The Lily whiten'd from its dust with tears;
And Hopes with lifted smiles, and holy-minded Fears.
From discord drop resolving,
Than struck the balanced world around
Once more set smooth revolving;
And princely visions rare,
Went stepping through the air,
With frank eyes listening to the glassy spheres;
The Eagles of the north were seen
Sailing the sunny doves between;
The Lily whiten'd from its dust with tears;
And Hopes with lifted smiles, and holy-minded Fears.
lviii
And lo, how earth and sky,
As if the charm completing,
From winter's other tyranny
Revive and give us greeting.
There's not a joy of spring,
But's up upon the wing;
The leaves put out their hands into the ray;
The bee, that rings the basking hour,
Comes for his kiss from flow'r to flow'r;
Glad faces are abroad with crowding play,
And all creation keeps full-hearted holiday.
As if the charm completing,
From winter's other tyranny
Revive and give us greeting.
There's not a joy of spring,
But's up upon the wing;
The leaves put out their hands into the ray;
The bee, that rings the basking hour,
Comes for his kiss from flow'r to flow'r;
Glad faces are abroad with crowding play,
And all creation keeps full-hearted holiday.
The soldier sheathes his sword,
The statesman breathes from thinking,
The freeman feels his hope restored,
When most his heart was shrinking.
No more the widow bleeds
To see the babe that feeds
At her dear breast with sudden-stopping moan;
But while his earnest task he plies,
Smiles in his grave uplifted eyes,
Gath'ring his little hand into her own,
And feels that in the world she shall not be alone.
The statesman breathes from thinking,
The freeman feels his hope restored,
When most his heart was shrinking.
No more the widow bleeds
To see the babe that feeds
At her dear breast with sudden-stopping moan;
But while his earnest task he plies,
Smiles in his grave uplifted eyes,
Gath'ring his little hand into her own,
And feels that in the world she shall not be alone.
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O Liberty! O breath
Of all that's true existence!
Thou at whose touch the soul, at death,
But leaps to joy and distance;
Before thy present call,
The very captive's wall,
If wrongly round him, like a curtain flies;
The green and laughing world he sees,
Waters, and plains, and waving trees,
The skim of birds, and the blue-doming skies,
And sits with smile at heart, and patience-levell'd eyes.
Of all that's true existence!
Thou at whose touch the soul, at death,
But leaps to joy and distance;
Before thy present call,
The very captive's wall,
If wrongly round him, like a curtain flies;
The green and laughing world he sees,
Waters, and plains, and waving trees,
The skim of birds, and the blue-doming skies,
And sits with smile at heart, and patience-levell'd eyes.
| The Poetical Works of Leigh Hunt | |